Since You've Been Gone
by Angel in the Shadows36
Summary: Paul and Suze ventured into the past to save the life of one particular ghost. Both had their reasons for doing it, but the ultimate result was one and the same: they succeeded, and Jesse lived out a long happy life, changing the future.
1. Chapter 1

(A/N:) A new story from moi. This idea came to me yesterday and I absolutely loved it that I typed like crazy for three hours or so when I finally realized I should get going to bed. I successfully typed through four whole chapters and am at work on my fifth. I have my whole beginning, middle, and end thought out. It was one of those rare moments where I actually came up with the whole story all the way through instead of jumping into the first thing that came to mind.

This is aptly titled Since You've Been Gone which will probably make sense from just the summary.

**Summary:** Paul and Suze ventured into the past to save the life of one particular ghost. Both had their reasons for doing it, but the ultimate result was one and the same: they succeeded, and Jesse lived out a long happy life, changing the future.

**Disclaimer **(For all my chapters since I'll probably forget later on): Meg Cabot owns all the characters of the Mediator Series. Paul, Suze, and Jesse will never be mine, much to my chagrin because Ms. Cabot beat me to them - not that I'd of thought of them on my own... You've all been disclaimed (is that even a word/ eh...)

Lastly, rating will beT for language and possible future scenes (may change to M, don't know the guidelines for ratings all too well). I always imagined that Suze would be the type to curse relentlessly if it weren't for Meg's teen editors prohibiting her from doing so.

So, I won't delay you anymore, and I'm sorry for the seriously long A/N. There'll be another one at the end, cue eye rolls and groans. Ah, shut up, you... J/K. Drum roll, please.Without further ado, my new fic!

* * *

A hand came around my wrist, encircling it and taking a hold of me. I ignored it and pulled at my wrist, to try and free myself from it, and hastened my step. He still clutched at my wrist. But I was sick of him and his stupid games and paid no heed to his calls. 

"Suze." His voice was steady, but in it I could hear a minimal plead. "Suze, please just listen. No tricks. I promise."

Yeah right, since when could I actually trust _him_? Since the first day I met him, he's been trouble. He may win over many girls with his charming good looks; but I know all too well it is a façade. He will not have me fooled. I am much too good for him.

With one final yank, I freed my wrist and continued walking. Behind me, I heard a sigh of resignation. I smiled to myself, in triumph. Maybe if I ignored him long enough, he would finally understand and just leave me alone.

I was so sure I was almost free of him, when suddenly his figure came to halt by my side.

I sighed, giving in. "What do you want, Paul?"

He wasn't worth my time, so I kept my gaze trailed ahead. My car was only a few cars away. If I could just get in and speed away, leaving Paul behind. No such luck, however, as he stepped in front of me, causing me to stumble right into him.

"Damn it," I breathed. "Are you mental?" Instantly I distanced myself from him. There was a solid foot of space between the both of us. Too bad I hadn't made it to my car, though. Five more feet and I would have been free.

"Suze, will you just listen to me already? I really need to talk to you. I can't stand the fact you keep ignoring me." I looked into his blue eyes, glazed over by a false softness. I know how piercing cold his eyes really are.

"Really?" I asked, quirking one eyebrow. "I can." I took a step forward and pushed past him. I dug my keys from the outer compartment of my purse and clicked the remote. The sound of the beep told me my car was open. Now if only I could get in.

"Suze." He called again to me, his voice almost wavering. Did he really need talk to me that badly? My hand was on the handle. If I ignored him once more, all I would have to do is settle into the car and then drive away. I didn't have to listen to him.

At least, that's what I was telling myself.

Instead, I turned around to face him. "What is it, Paul? In case you haven't noticed, you're not regarded on my list of favorite people."

"I don't care. I want to settle things with you once and for all. Just, please listen to me."

Why didn't I listen to myself? I was almost free of Paul Slater's presence. But instead I was actually having a semi-conversation with him.

"Give me one good reason, Paul. Since I met you, it's been one thing after another. You're constantly interfering with my life and I'm fed up with it. We were never friends in the first place, so I really don't understand why you insist on making things right between us. There are no things to better."

"Suze, there are some things I need to tell you about myself. You think you've got me figured out. You're convinced that I'm the devil's spawn. But what you don't realize is that you and I, we're exactly alike."

I laughed at him, mockingly, bitterly. Right in his face, not taking a word he said seriously. "Right," I said, stretching the word as if it were more than one syllable. "Yes, Paul, we're exactly alike. Two peas in a pod, you and me. Last time I checked, I wasn't a bastard." I tossed my purse into my car, the door finally opened.

I looked up to see Paul's face. Anger and contempt spread across his impeccable features. Hs brows were furrowed, his eyes slit. "Whatever, Suze. I must've been stupid to think you'd actually listen to me. You know what? Forget it. Forget me. Forget anything I've said to you. Just don't come crawling to me when you need me."

"And why exactly would I need you, Paul?" My tone laced heavily in rancor.

"You'll find out soon enough. I know you enough to recognize what you do." I stared at him long and hard for a second. His face was deadpan, making it impossible to read. He couldn't possibly know the truth. No one did. There was no way he could.

Pushing away the sudden rush of adrenaline that course through me–I actually thought he'd figured it out for a second–I spoke steadily to him, "And what makes _you_ the expert on Susannah Simon?"

Shrugging casually, he dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "But, that was an amazing two weeks we had, wasn't it?" The cold, serious expression on his face earlier had now transformed into one of pure bliss as he reminisced the worst two weeks of my life–both of which were a huge mistake.

"Shut up, you fucking asshole. I hate you. I don't know why I ever agreed to such an atrocity."

"That's not the way I recall it." Paul smiled smugly at me. That stupid arrogant smirk of his was stamped across his face.

"I recall it being a mistake." Without a glance back to him I clambered into my jeep. I set it into reverse immediately, not bothering to look if Paul was still standing behind. If I did run over him, I wouldn't be too bothered. Of course, the legal consequences would be grave, but at least I'd rid my life of Paul Slater.

When I did pull out, much to my chagrin, Paul was already gone. I really was ready to run over him. Anything that could get rid of him would improve my mood. But since he'd shown up at the Mission this year, nothing had remained the same. Granted, I'd only been here a half a year, but nothing gave Paul Slater to stalk me relentlessly at my own school. Why couldn't he get it through his thick skull that he and I–we were over?

Why did I have to fall for the first _hot _guy that asked me out? It's true what they say; never judge anyone by what's on the outside. The hot guys are usually the biggest assholes. Well, in my personal experience, anyway. Either that or certifiably insane.

Despite his faults, Paul is the hottest guy I have ever laid my eyes on. It's just a shame things had to turn out the way they did. Well, maybe not quite so. At least I know the truth about Paul Slater.

But, because of him, every other girl–except CeeCee– at the Mission hates me. They're all fawning over him while the guy stalks me.

_Thanks_, Paul. Thanks.

I was still seething when I got home. My anger was teeming, penetrating the walls, possibly. Max, the one normally waiting for me at the door took one look at me, barked and walked away. He didn't even wait for me to pat his head.

I was home alone today–a rare occurrence in the Ackerman household. I took this as the perfect opportunity to blast my music loudly upstairs. Changing into my usual kick-boxing ensemble I stood before the punching bag.

One punch. Another punch. A double punch. A kick. A few more punches and I started pounding hardly at the punching bag, seeing Paul's face with every jab. Soon, I was breathing hard, my heart pumping even harder. I worked myself into a sweat. But I persisted. I was too riled to stop. I couldn't stop.

Kick-boxing to me is as therapeutic as massages are to the weak-minded. A good session and I'm back to my usual, calm self.

I don't know how long I attacked the harmless punching bag; half an hour maybe, when Dopey pounded on my door.

"Shut that crap down," he drawled in his usual Dopey-esque stupor. How I managed to hear him over the stereo, I can't figure it out. I guess seeing him at the door was a good enough hint.

I walked away from my punching bag, refreshed – in a sweaty way – breathing hard, and feeling every inch of loathing having escaped in the kick-boxing session.

I shut off the stereo. Wrapping a towel around my neck, I turned around to Dopey, who was still standing in my room. "Um, you can leave now."

Dopey was gawking at me, amazed, I suppose. "Holy fucking shit – you're ripped. Remind me not to mess with you." He squandered away from my room, aloof only as he could. I rolled my eyes, shutting the door behind him.

All of my Paul worries were cleansed. He was back to being a nonentity in my life.

The smell of sweat gorged my room and decided that it was about time to take a shower. Grabbing a clean pair of clothes from my window seat, I paused briefly, opened it up and finally stepped into my personal bathroom.

– 8 –

The one thing that's even more therapeutic than a good kick-boxing session is nice, hot shower afterwards. Nothing can beat those two sensations coursing through your body. I stepped out of the shower, the steam still hovering lazily in the air, pouring out into the chilled atmosphere of my room. In my shower, the room had been evaded of the awful sweat smell and instead chilled.

I closed the window, before collapsing in a heap onto my bed. Covering my face with my hands, I closed my eyes, trying my best to avert the unavoidable California sunlight. I didn't try hard to block it. So long as it wasn't directly in my eyes, I was comfortable.

I must've fallen asleep, because when my eyes reopened, there a gentle knock at my door. "Susie, are you okay?" It was my mother calling sweetly at me from behind the door. "Brad told me you were kickboxing earlier, hopefully you didn't exhaust yourself." Genuine concern laced my mom's voice.

"I'm fine, mom. I must've fallen asleep," I called back to her.

"Oh, alright. Well, dinner will be ready in five, okay." I heard her feet shuffling away.

I sat up in bed and looked at my alarm clock. Six o'clock already. I couldn't believe half my afternoon had already been wasted. I trailed my gaze around the room. The punching bag perched precariously from the ceiling; the pile of clothes in the furthest corner; my window seat…

My gaze settled at the window seat, the one Andy had lovingly installed for me. For a reason unknown to me, it drew my attention most than any other object in my room. The longer I looked up it, the more I realized something was missing. I scanned the window seat carefully; the four throw pillows I'd accommodated there were in place as was my purse and coat. I shook my head and ignored the feeling that something was missing.

My fondness of the window seat gone, I stood up and headed downstairs. I settled into the usual family scene and ate dinner diligently; the sinking feeling that something in my room was missing in that window seat.

I ignored the feeling and allowed for myself to get consumed into the conversation at the dinner table. I waited for the ravenous three to have their share of food before diving in myself. My mind slipped, and I completely forgot about the eeriness from earlier.

* * *

(A/N): Ya'll know what to do at this point, right? That's right, I knew you were smart. Review! So, come on, go on... but first, I'll lengthen this message just a bit more. 

Please excuse grammar errors; it was late at night when I first typed this. I did edit, but it was more of scanning than anything. I caught big blunders but not tiny period/comma usage or slight grammar misuse.

And, for those who have read my earlier fics (Love and Marriage, and Ghost of You), I am so sorry I never updated, but I lost all inspiration for those two fics. I just jumped into the stories without ever fully thinking my way through the plot. So, so sorry. I hope I'll finish them someday, but I cannot think it will be soon. I lost all inspiration, and I don't know how to quite pursue them.

Finally, this is the end of my second long A/N. Please review, critique, and if you absolutely must, flame.

--Kim


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.Even though I've got like the next two or three chapters done, I'm going to redoportions of them so I can fit my plot together and stuff.

* * *

I woke in the middle of the night. I had a dream of someone sitting atop my window seat, as if he belonged at that one spot. When I opened my eyes, there was no one there. I had that sinking feeling that I was being watched studiously by an unseen force. I strained my sight that much harder, but nothing gave way.

I couldn't settle back into bed, however. I had a feeling that despite how hard I tried, I wouldn't get any more sleep tonight. Instead, I found me in my black hoodie and slipped it over my pajama shirt. Tossing my pj pants aside, I pulled on a pair of jeans and got my sneakers. It wasn't my usual mediating outfit, but it would have to do until the standard get-up got washed.

With impeccable grace, I swooped out of my bedroom window and climbed onto the ground. So common did I sneak out that the descent from my bedroom window was now second nature. My feet landed with a gentle thud causing something rattled in the bushes. A second later, Spike darted out distancing himself as far from me as possible. As he bounded onto the empty street, he soon became a shadow in the night and was no longer visible.

The damn cat hates me; I need to find proper owners for him. I don't even know why I've kept him so long. I don't even think he possibly qualifies as a cat.

Pocketing my keys, I scrambled over to my Jeep. In its red shining glory, it was my prized possession. I worked hard for it this summer.

Unfortunately, I met Paul Slater in the process.

Despite the constant reminder of Paul every time I saw my jeep, I loved it. The Slater's are loaded and they gave me hefty tips that contributed towards my jeep. If only Paul Slater wasn't a requisite member of his otherwise almost normal family. I don't know how my summer would have turned out if I hadn't met Paul.

I climbed into my jeep quietly, turning the ignition. The best part of all, the jeep didn't sputter crazily upon ignition unlike the monstrous Rambler. It was perfect for middle of the night ghost-hunting excursions.

Since Paul, I've found another way to relieve stress: ghost hunting. They don't even come to me anymore. I go to them. The asshole drove me to it. When I was getting over our break-up, mediating was the one thing that kept me sane after I got over my anger. Old habits die hard; although this particular one isn't all that old.

I rolled my windows down, letting the crisp night air float into the contained space of the jeep. The cool air splashed against my face, reviving me. No other cars lighted the way as the roads were desolate this late at night. The Carmel residents had let slumber take them long ago. I had too, but I'd been awakened by an awkward dream.

I replayed the dream in my mind, but there was not much to it; only my window seat with a young man sitting upon it, reading. The young man glowed. No other features were visible, however. I saw enough to figure out he was a ghost and a man, just barely older than myself.

I drove around slowly, casting glances all around, looking for any hint of spectral activity. Somehow, I ended up driving past Paul's glass home, where one stray light was turned on. I shivered at the repulsive memories. I knew the light came from his bedroom, and I couldn't help but wonder if he had some bimbo up with him in his room right now. Hopefully I was more than just another girl to him.

No love was lost between either of us, and I don't think I could ever forgive myself for what happened between the both of us. As much as I wanted to blame Paul, it was no more his fault than mine. So, I keep pushing him away. He hurt me, and I suppose I hurt him as well. He told me he cared about me; but I don't want to believe it, it may just be a lie.

He made me feel great in those two weeks. But two weeks of greatness do not change the fact that he is an asshole. Nothing ever can.

I kept on driving, ending up eventually at Big Sur. I pulled over and stepped out of my car. The roar of the ocean was calling me, drawing me in. I leaned over the rail and looked out below me. The waves kept crashing noisily against the cliffs. I easily lost myself in the sight. Almost a year here, and the ocean still had the same effect on me it did when I first landed; it entranced me.

It was because of the ocean that I didn't notice him. The sudden changing of light didn't clue me in to his presence, nor did the fact that the temperature dropped slightly to my right. I didn't even notice the fact that he was staring at me–though I could feel his gaze burning right through me.

It was when a cold hand landed on my forearm that I finally realized someone was beside me.

One thing, Susannah Simon does not scare easily. She simply does not. So, when I felt that cold hand atop my arm, I am ashamed to admit that I jumped a mile high in the sky and shrieked much like Kelly Prescott would.

I did not notice someone had decided to join me–it could've been anyone. For all I know, it could be an escaped convict or murderer. Thinking about it, I actually realize how stupid it was of me to just be standing out there in the middle of the night with no one around.

This is situation could've had dire consequences for blatantly obvious reasons; one: it was the middle of the night; two: there was absolutely no one around.

When I finally calmed down, and my heart beat steadied I turned to face the perpetrator, his face aglow with a very ghostly luminance. His face was creased into genuine concern as he stared ponderously at me.

"Jesus Christ. You scared the hell out of me." The ghost took a step back, bewildered that I was speaking to him. "You know, 'boo' would've worked just fine."

He looked at me in confusion, silence penetrating the thing air. He took yet another step backward and I finally got a good look at him. After nearly experiencing a heart attack, the moment my eyes fell upon his gorgeous features all other thoughts ceased to exist. One thought came to mind and that was how hot he is. He beat Paul by a long shot, and that's saying something.

I noticed most of all, how a scar slashed across his eyebrow which was nearly white, as he excruciatingly–and confusedly, too, probably–scrutinized me. He had crisp black hair, and strong facial features. His eyes were two ominous black pools, but yet soft, and filled with sincerity; almost as if I could trust him easily and as if though he could never hurt me intentionally. Despite the manly bravado he possessed, I could easily tell he was a lot softer on the inside.

There was something familiar about him, as I gazed upon his lovely face, but nothing seemed to register.

He finally spoke at last, "Perdón, lo siento." I stared at him bewildered. Maybe he didn't even understand English. After registering his words–pure blubbers–I noticed how deeply tanned his skin was. I hadn't noticed it at first, but now I could see it clearly.

I opened my mouth to speak, and then closed it again. I wasn't sure if he knew English.

He chuckled softly at me, looking down at me from his staggering height. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Bewildered all over again, I looked up at him. My gaze had strayed down to his perfectly shaped abdomen. "I thought you were aware of my presence." I could not figure out why he was speaking so calmly to me. Usually, it was the ghost that couldn't get over the shock of being seen by me; not the other way around.

I blame his hotness.

"I… um… it's–I… don't worry about it."

Smooth, Suze. Real smooth.

"Who are you?" His brows knit into confusion at last, as if the answer should be obvious.

"Y-you don't know?" I shook my head. I don't make it a point to hang out with ghosts. "I'm Je-Hector de Silva." I nodded, registering his name.

"I'm Su–"

"Susannah Simon, as in 'don't you cry for me.'" He cut me off, smiling.

"H-… how do you know?" I didn't even correct him on the fact I liked to be called 'Suze.'

"I know you. You know me, too. Somehow. Perhaps things have changed after you met me."

No way, buddy. I think I'd remember the ghosts I've dealt with. Especially if they're particularly good-looking. Sweeping my gaze across him one more time, I knew I had never met him before. Otherwise, I'm a cruel heartless bitch for not remembering those who I presumably help.

My gaze lingered; I looked up at his handsome facial features, looking for anything that might allow for me to distinguish him. Other than the scar across his eyebrow, nothing else stood out.

"_What_?"

He shook his head, probably confused as well. "I don't understand. You knew me. You came to me." He was muttering softly under his breath, but I clung to every word despite the fact he wasn't speaking to me. "I met you in my time. You came to me." he spoke clearly and confident, as if he were explaining something obvious to me. I still didn't comprehend what he was trying to tell me.

Arching one eyebrow up, I took in his appearance. By the looks of what he was wearing, he was either one: an actor who died in a fateful accident shooting a western movie; or two: from some century long ago. I think the former is much more suited.

"Whatever, cowboy…"

"Don't call me that," he growled, his voice harsh compared to the conspiratorial tone from earlier. Recomposing himself, he said, "I'm sorry. My voiuce should not have taken such a harsh tone, especially towards you a lady. But never call me 'cowboy.'"

I looked up at him, the visible anger diminishing quickly from his face. He looked down at me, sorry for using such a tone. "Um, alright…" I looked away. Damn dreams had to wake me. I could still be in bed, having avoided this particular ghost completely.

Although, I was thoroughly intrigued now. No ghost had ever come to me claiming to know me. The guy either had a few screws loose or was maybe actually telling the _truth_.

"So," he spoke again, breaking the silence. "You really do not recognize me?"

"No. I don't. Should I?"

"I figure you should. You sought me in my time to rescue me." He looked away from me suddenly. "For that I owe you my life. Had you not come to me that night, I would not have had a complete life. I never did get the chance to thank you, though." I looked up at him, as he too turned his gaze toward me. "Thank you." His voice dropped a few octaves but I heard him loud and clear.

I nodded my head. "I still don't understand."

"I can help you understand, if you need to. You got me to understand, I'm sure I could succeed in the same mission. Every night since then – when I was a live, that is – I wondered if the whole thing had been made up. I thought perhaps I'd gone mad. All these years–now that I'm dead, too–I've been waiting in Carmel, hoping to find the ones who rescued me. Now that I have found you, I know I have not created the event in my mind. It was real. You saved me from unfortunate death."

He looked down at me and smiled. I was still too awestruck to contribute much to this seemingly one-sided conversation. "There is no comprehension for how deep my gratitude is towards you, Susannah, and your companion."

"Companion?"

"Yes. Companion. There was a _gentleman_," his voice grew bitter with the word gentleman, but softened immediately, "Accompanying you that night. The two of you were quite quarrelsome, and I can tell you do not have a strong liking towards him…" He trailed off, looking off into the distance. "I believe his name was Paul."

"Paul?" I squeaked.

I stared upon the face of the ghost, who nodded when I repeated Paul's name. There was no way in _hell_ Paul could have any contact with ghosts…

Could he?


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N): Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters. The plot is mine, though.

* * *

Incredulously, I asked, "Paul was with me?"

He nodded again, reassuring what he had already announced. The usual candor associated with Paul Slater was lost as I took in the information.

"Can you explain to me what exactly happened? How I _met_ you." I stated, still unbelieving. I've dealt with my fair share of ghosts; I understand how they work and how to mediate them. But the tables have been turned drastically.

What _Hector_ is insinuating is impossible for a hapless mediator of my ability. I doubt time-travel is beyond the realm of possibility, even if I am blesses with the wonderful ability of mediation. A ghost could not possibly comprehend the complexities of mediator, yet alone preach about them. I've been mediating my whole life and I've yet to understand what is expected of me.

"Well," Hector began pursing his lips in thought.

He took my hand in his. "You're cold," he stated and I looked down at my hand encompassed in his. I shrugged casually; I couldn't really feel the cold.

"It's not that bad."

"Let's get you inside your… car?" The once cool metal of the car keys weighed lightly in my hands. Rattling them in my hand I drew them out. I nodded, smiling slightly to myself.

"Sure, Hector," I agreed and started towards my car.

"Jesse," he said slowly. Halting, I turned to look at him. "I prefer to be called 'Jesse.' By some anyway."

"And I prefer to be called 'Suze.'" I smiled slyly at him. "But you should know that already," I added playfully, "Anyone who _knows_ me knows that."

"Maybe I just prefer calling you 'Susannah.' It is a beautiful name, you know."

"Yeah, if you like folk songs." Jesse's face contorted into semi-confusion before dismissing the comment.

"What's wrong with folk songs?"

I shrugged, not bothering to supply a helpful answer.

"Let's just get you somewhere not cold, Susannah," he chided.

Opening the jeep, I crawled in, setting the heat on low to compensate for the chilliness that had accumulated inside. Jesse followed me inside as well. Sitting in the car seat, he looked so foreign. The uneasiness in his face showed; the discomfort radiated from the foul expression his face took. In his time, whenever that was, cars probably didn't exist.

I smiled amusedly to myself. "Is this your first time in a car?" The incredulity penetrated my voice imagining a time before cars ever existed.

"Yes, it is, actually." Jesse warily admitted.

"Weird," I replied my thoughts still in disbelief at how old he actually was. "Anyway before you answer my questions," I started, reaching over to put the heater up a bit, "I want to ask you some things. I don't know how much you know about me, but I am a mediator and–"

"Mediator?" He leaned over the clutch in the middle and looked at me curiously. "I believe you are also a shifter; at least, your companion insisted so."

(A/N: I'm not sure how Suze and Paul introduced themselves in the books to Jesse. Let's just say they told Jesse they were shifters.)

"Um, not a shifter, whatever _that_ is. I'm a mediator and basically, I mediate. Helping lost souls–you–is all part of the job description. In order to do that, I need to figure what is holding you back. So, just a few questions, alright? Enough for me to put the pieces together and send you on your way when you're ready."

"I think I know what is holding me back," Jesse admitted softly. Giving my undivided attention to him, I allowed for him to continue. "I needed to meet you and Paul for rescuing me that night. Since my death, I've wondered countless times if I would ever meet the two souls from the future. I needed to find you. To thank you the two of you, I suppose. I've already thanked you, Susannah. So perhaps I should just find Paul and I'll be on my way."

I stared. It's rude to stare, I know. But no ghost I have ever met actually knows what is holding him back. So, I think that the staring is to cover up my shock. He'd just made my life–albeit, temporarily–about ten times easier. "Um, yeah. That might be it. Alright then, I'll… _talk_ to Paul tomorrow. So forget that I need to ask you anything for now. If it doesn't work, _then_ I'll grill you. Just be here at about the same time."

"_Querida_, I'm not going anywhere."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. "So do you want to know how I met you now? If you're not going to ask me anything, that is."

"Yeah. Quite honestly, I have no idea how it would happen. I've tried working it through in my mind, but nothing seems to make sense."

Jesse released a breath–an action unnecessary for him–and began to talk. I clung to every word as he intricately explained every detail, speaking clearly; recalling his memory from long ago. If half of what he said was true, then my preconceived notions of one Mr. Paul Slater were very wrong. I always thought I knew Paul so well, but I suppose there's only so much I can know. Surely he didn't tell me everything about his life in the two miraculous weeks we spent together. Jesse said we claimed to be shifters; something I wasn't entirely sure about because I've been told I am a mediator and not a shifter.

For the first time since I broke up with Paul, I wished I hadn't been so nasty to him in the past. Who knows if he'll even want to help me now? This could all just be a set-up, another trick Paul Slater is trying to pull. Whatever it is, it's working. I'm enthralled with what happened, even if I can't recall such memories. If Paul Slater is behind all this, he has successfully fabrictaed an alternate reality–it has to based on something real, right?–that might just be better than the current one. Or maybe Paul has no hand in it at all, and Jesse de Silva is telling me the truth. If by a fluke Paul and I did travel back in time, then that would surely change events enough to erase my memory and the course of history.

Some of the details were blotchy, things that Jesse's either forgotten or never understood himself, but his knowledge on the subject is enough for me to believe him. Despite the fact I only met him twenty minutes ago, I know I can trust him. Jesse seems like the type of man with strong morals. And someone with morals does not lie, I'm guessing.

After what seemed to be an hour-long speech, Jesse stopped speaking. Hearing what he said, I knew this was the end of his story. He fell out of a burning barn, and woke up a week later in the arms of his mother, five gorgeous sisters asunder, and his father furious hidden in the shadows of his room. That night, when Jesse was well enough, he went to defend his honor by confronting Felix Diego–the antagonist of Jesse's story–only to find out that Diego had died inside the burning barn. Jesse never got the confrontation he sought.

Speechless, I drew my gaze to Jesse. His eyes were downcast, but the moonlight shone upon his face revealed one tear streak sliding down both his cheeks. I realize there is much more to this story than he is willing to share, but in time, I hope he will trust me enough to tell me the rest. Hopefully I'll indulge on the details of the life I apparently gave him.

But for reasons incomprehensible to me, I do not know why I would bother to go back in time to save the life of a ghost. Or Paul for that matter, the epitome of arrogance.

"Wow," I at last managed to speak. "Quite a life story you've got there," I whisperedm trying to lighten the mood.

"I suppose. And again, Susannah, thank you." A genuine smile appeared before his lips.

"Mm-hmm." Leaning against my seat, I closed my eyes. The whir of the heater combined with the serene sounds of the ocean mingled inside the car, otherwise silence overwhelmed.

"I suppose I should get going. It is late, and I have school tomorrow. Just meet me here tomorrow." I looked at him, and he nodded. Bitterly, I added, "And now I'm actually going to have to speak with Paul."

Jesse smiled approvingly. "I'm glad to see you still dislike him."

"With the best reasons, too," I muttered under my breath. "It was nice to… meet you."

Turning the ignition, Jesse started to dematerialize. "Likewise, Susannah. Goodnight, _querida_."

"Kay-ree-dah, what does that mean? You called me that earl–" When I turned to look at him, he was already gone.

Sighing, I reversed and turned to leave. "Good night, Jesse."

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Review please! Leave comments on any way I may improve. Chapter 4 will be up sometime next week, I hope. 


	4. Chapter 4

(A/N): Here's chapter four! This one has been rewritten quite a few times, and I'm pretty content with the way it came out as last. It may be a while before chapter five up, but thats because I like to have at least two more chapters started bfore posting the next chapter so I can change things around before actually posting it.

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Hope ya'll enjoy this update, and I'll get working on my next chappies. Hopefully it won't tale too long.

The day was slowly escaping me, and in every class I would cast nervous glances in Paul's direction. I never kept my gaze locked on him for too long, nervous that he would feel my eyes on him. If he did notice–which he probably had by now–he didn't let on. Intentionally ignoring me is just another one of his games.

Last night, when I returned home, I fell into bed. I shut my eyes tight, and waited for sleep to take me. It never came. Meeting Jesse last night left me in daze–a happy one. Warm sensations coursed my frail body. Something about him was so familiar. His mannerisms, his speech they all seemed familiar. There is no denying the fact that Jesse is very attractive. With clearly defined muscles and otherworldly good looks, no girl could resist his charm.

A guy like Jesse deserved the life he got. And because of me, he got that life. It still amazes me that I somehow managed to tamper with the strings of time and experienced time-travel first hand. It's a shame I can't remember such an occurrence.

I am certain of my mediating abilities and all the quirks that come with; I believe I am quite a strong fighter… but time travel? That I'm not so sure about. Until last night, I was inclined towards the belief it was impossible. Suddenly some guy pops up and says it is when he's not so sure himself? Who would know what to think?

Just like in class, I sat through lunch quietly as more of an observer rather than a participant. All throughout, I cast even more careful glances in Paul's direction. He was amidst his friends at school. Looking at him, sitting there talking and laughing with his friends, you would never guess the secrets he keeps hidden. Who he is at school is most definitely not the guy I met over the summer. At school he transforms himself to be the perfect model student when he is everything but perfect. It is a façade not many can see through. I would be fooled too if I didn't know any better.

It seems like Paul fits in perfectly with his 'school' friends. They achieve academically and athletically; Paul does too. Paul was the big man on campus at his old school; but when he came here, he saw how different things were. We didn't want to be apart of Kelly's group, which have all the reigning power. He relinquished for the next best thing after making it clear he could never be friends with Kelly or Debbie, and most definitely never Brad.

Once Kelly and her mindless crones stopped flocking after Paul upon his arrival–he did make it perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with them–Paul sought refuge amongst his group now. Kelly the princess wasn't all too pleased because Paul is easily the hottest guy in school, and made it her job to be the bitchy popular girl–not that she wasn't already. His royal highness (Paul) dissed Kelly by not agreeing to date her and now there is hell to pay.

Good, Paul deserves it.

Despite all of this, I really needed to speak to him.

This however, will prove to be difficult. Firstly, I have to approach him, something I am not keen on attempting or desiring. Secondly, I have to initiate conversation. Both of these actions have never been pursued by me during our long standing history. Paul has always been the stalker to my victim, approaching me whenever he needs something.

As if that weren't enough, I will indirectly have to confess my mediating abilities. Again, I am not to keen to admit my longest well-kept secret. And then after divulging him with the truth, I will then have to ask him about his own mediating abilities… or _shifting_ abilities, something I have yet to understand.

After all is said and done, and he doesn't believe I am crazy I will have to ask him to come meet Jesse so said ghost can move on to the afterlife. However, I fear he won't be able to see Jesse. I doubt Paul shares my unique abilities.

Add that to the fact that he will most likely _not_ help me–something he pretty much guaranteed yesterday–I can ashamedly admit I am screwed.

"Simon?" The voice calling my name sounded distorted as if it were miles away rather than right next to me. Averting my gaze from Paul's back, I looked vacantly at violet eyes.

"Suze, snap out of it. Are you okay?"

Two indistinct voices filtered the air around me…

"Simon?" A small white hand clutched around my upper arm, urging me gently. Shaking my head, I snapped out of my thoughts at last. "What's up with you? You've been awfully quiet all day."

"Sorry," I sighed. "I've been thinking is all."

"About… you know who?" Cee asked, quietly, though there was no need. She took a furtive glance in Paul's direction and sighed.

"Yeah. But, he didn't actually do anything to initiate these thoughts for once. It was something else. I don't know why or how, but Paul Slater is always involved with my problems."

"Want me to pound him?" Adam offered, smiling goofily.

"No need for that, Adam. This is something I'm going to have to deal with myself."

"Suze, you sure? Sooner or later, the two of you are just going to have to learn to stay away. I mean, you claim you hate him, but you're always thinking about him one way or another. I don't want you getting hurt again."

"I won't, Cee. Thanks. But I actually have to talk to him. Something has come up, and I think he's the only one–unfortunate as that may be, that can help me." I stood up from our lunch table, smiling assuredly at both Adam and Cee.

Taking my bag with me, I sauntered over to Paul's table slowly. I navigated the whole of the courtyard deliberately, anything to delay the eventual conversation with Paul.

Adam and Cee both trailed their gaze along with me, following my every step. Their eyes nearly burned through my back. Sighing, I turned in Paul's direction. He was eating a sandwich, and laughing with his friends as I approached. His back was to me, and he never saw me coming. James Pullman did, however, and he started mouthing words I could not recognize to Paul. I know James is Paul's closest friend in Carmel. The two of them are always together.

Slowly, Paul's neck turned slowly in my direction. His eyes slit as they landed on my own and I smiled weakly, causing to anger him further. "What the hell you want?" He growled at me.

"We need to talk." I'd like to say I sounded confident as I uttered those words, but that would be a lie because it was more of a squeak than anything else. A mouse would've been proud.

Paul laughed mockingly at me, speaking to no one in particular. "She wants to speak." Turning to me once more, he added, "_I_ wanted to speak yesterday. Did we? No, we didn't. I was left under the impression you never wanted to speak to me again. What was it you called me again right before you left? Oh, that's right. I just remembered. How could I've forgotten? You called me a fucking asshole. Good-bye, Suze. I've got nothing left to say to you."

"Paul, please. Some of those things were harsh. I-we… you were right. We need to speak." I closed my eyes awaiting his response.

Condescendingly, Paul laughed at me again. "If I'm such a fucking asshole, Suze, I doubt you'd care much." I looked at him with pleading eyes, and I saw Paul debating with himself. It was the furtive glances between me and his friends that displayed the inner conflict within himself. I suppose he would have every reason to not want to talk with me. But I hoped for my sake–and Jesse's–that he would agree.

"This better be good," Paul muttered standing abruptly.

"Dude, don't," James interjected but Paul waved him away.

Paul stormed ahead of me and I walked as fast as I could, trying my hardest to keep up with him. I had no idea where he was going. He just continued walking leaving me in his wake.

Coming to a stop in the empty breezeway, Paul looked at me intently. "What the hell do you want, Suze? If you can't make up your mind about me, then please just leave me the hell alone. You do things to me, and every time you raise my hopes, I'm left with this desire to be with you. It's all false hope and I can't live with that. So, you either like me or you don't. No more games, because I am sick of them. Just tell me what you need to say and be on your way."

The look in his eyes stung–piercing into me, but it was shadowed by slight hope. He was trying his hardest to be mad at me, but he was struggling to do so. I doubt Paul could ever stay mad at me for long, or hate me for that matter. He did care about me and I cared about him no matter how much we pissed each other off, how much we argued, or how we always had to agree to disagree.

"Paul, I–" Trailing off, I realized I didn't know what I wanted to say. I never actually thought to go over what I might say. 'I can see ghosts, can you?' just somehow isn't going to cut it. I assumed Paul would wave me away and heed no attention to me. I never thought we'd get past the point where I asked him to come with me and actually _discuss_ my little dilemma may or may not have anything to do with Paul.

So how did I tell him that instead of sharing my feelings for him–however complicated those were–I was seeking a favor? A cruel thing to do, considering the fact he thought I was at last putting closure to our quasi-relationship. I'm a cold relentless bitch to ask for favors when I am not at the top of his favorite peoples list.

My feelings for him are a whole other complicated mess separate from the issue at hand.

"There's something I-I… don't know… This might sound a bit crazy, what I need to tell you."

Paul chuckled madly at me. "I knew you wouldn't be brave enough to confront me about your feelings, Suze. You may thing you're strong, but you're just a coward inside."

Anger flared inside me, and I slapped him. It was completely involuntary, a reflex reaction. Paul didn't move or flinch, and instead narrowed his eyes further.

"You asshole. Don't call me weak. You don't know the half of it, Paul. Yes, I'm not confronting you about my feelings, but that doesn't mean I won't. I have one question for you, that's all. There's something I need to know. If not, just forget it and I'll figure this out with or without your help. You might think I'm crazy afterwards, but I really don't give a rat's ass what you think anymore. I'm through with letting you dominate my feelings."

Paul shrugged in response, leaning against a locker door. Crossing his arms across his chest, Paul looked at me expectantly. "I highly doubt that last bit, but I'll let you ask me whatever." He smiled cruelly at me, "Come on, Suze. I'm waiting. Just ask."

Swallowing the lump in my throat I looked up at him. "Can you tell me all you know about… shifting?" He doesn't think I'm a total head-case, does he?

The way his body suddenly tensed up, went rigid, was all the answer I needed. His face was contorted in scrutiny. His eyes studied my face carefully, and hours, years, decades, millennia even could have passed in that one fleeting moment between Paul and me. He knew something about shifting, and I sure as hell know it deals with ghosts–at least Jesse's uncertain explanation made it seem so.

Finally, his lips shaped into an unfamiliar smile and Paul took measured steps towards me. "I knew it," he breathed, muttering to himself. Paul's hand came to my face, his thumb stroking my cheek as he pulled my face close to his. "Suze… you and I, we're meant to do great things. We're so much alike." He bit nervously at his bottom lip, an action I had never seen the cool, collected Paul Slater perform. "Shifting is a rare, special ability, Suze. One that we've been endowed with. It's about time you realized, it too. I wasn't certain though that you were a shifter, though."

A second too long, I allowed myself to enjoy the feeling of his hand caressing my face and Paul sought it as permission for him to kiss me. I didn't fight back, even though every part of me was telling me too. His touch had left me in a stupor, unwilling to fight back something that felt so good physically–like reliving a long forgotten memory. One touch from Paul was all it took to make the butterflies in my stomach flutter, and my heart pulse rapidly. I loved Paul's gentle touch on me...

He lowered his head towards mine. I closed my eyes. His lips met mine, and slowly my own parted. He began kissing me, his lips moving slowly over mine, almost becoming accustomed to kissing me all over again. I kissed back soon without a second thought. His lips on mine felt so right. His mouth covered mine and he stood closely to me. My arms wound up around his neck, my fingers entwining with the tufts of curly hair.

It was as his tongue threatened to enter my mouth that I realized what was happening. Wondrously, I'd ended up against the pillar supporting the breezeway, entrapped between it and Paul. I turned my face from Paul and my head fell into the nape of his neck. Paul continued kissing me; this time on my neck. Fighting myself, I pushed him away slightly. Shivering delightfully, I tried my best to conceal the pleasure. "Don't, Paul. We broke up. Don't kiss me anymore," with every word, my voice rose slightly. "Don't _kiss me_ anymore, Paul." I added with more strength.

"You know you want me to, Suze."

I took no note of his comment. "Just tell me what you know about shifting." Paul's arms were on either side of me, allowing me no exit. His body was pressed firmly against mine.

Paul blatantly ignored the question and instead decided to chastise my feelings. "You're doing it again, Suze. Why can't you just accept what we've got?"

"Because, after everything that happened, I don't want to get hurt again." I said through clenched teeth, mentally counting to ten. "Please, just tell me about shifting."

"Why should I? I have information you need. Why should I disclose it without anything in return?" Paul smiled cruelly at me, his face mere inches away from mine.

"Because it'll help me with something I wish not to discuss at the moment. Once you've explained a little about shifting, I'll tell you."

"No can do, Susie Q." Paul laughed to himself. "That rhymed a tad, don't you think?"

Rolling my eyes, I asked, "Can you just tell me already and get away from me?"

"I can. But not now. Besides, I love the feel of your body against mine." He lowered his head and swept his lips against my forehead. I closed my eyes, trying to break free of the spell he had over me. "Meet me after school, and I'll tell you all you need to know," he whispered lustrously. "Think of them as shifting lessons, perhaps." Paul smiled knowingly at me and dropped his arms. Without a glance back, Paul walked away and down the hallway, confident that I would go to his 'shifting lessons,' whatever the hell those were.

But how could he be so sure I'd actually go?

I wondered the same thing myself, but then I realized how much I truly wanted to know about shifting. So I decided, then and there that despite what I feared might happen I wanted to know more than anything about shifting.

Much to my chagrin, Pail knew me almost as well as I knew myself. He _knew_ I'd go.

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(A/N): Review please!


	5. Chapter 5

(A/N): Here's the latest review... I've suddenly become swamped with school work this week, but I did just have this lying around, so therefore decided to post. I didn't antagonize over this chapter as much as I do with others, but the end quality is still alright.Spelling/grammar, I'm sure got edited over, but I can't catch every mistake... eh /

**Disclaimer:** (I completely forget these) Meg Cabot owns anything and everything that is related to the Mediator; I am not Meg Cabot, so I am using her ideas and characters, etc. The plot, however, is mine.

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After my encounter with Paul today I found it hard to focus in class even more than before I spoke to him. I hate him. I love him. I can't make up my mind about him. And every moment I spend thinking about him, remembering the kiss in the hallway, I feel as if his body were right next to mine.

Paul makes me feel good in a way no other guy ever has. Granted, Paul was my first _and_ only boyfriend to date. They say teenagers can't experience true love; but I did. Those were two magnificent weeks. But Paul screwed up and so did I. Had we waited longer, we'd probably still be together today.

I am glad that Paul and I don't have our last two classes together. My attention is already far gone; it'd be worse if he were here, most likely sitting behind me like he does in three out of the four classes we share thanks to alphabetical accordance.

The day couldn't have ticked away any slower. Every second that passed seemed to be the equivalent of a minute, every minute the equivalent of an hour. The teacher droned on about verb conjugations. As her lips moved and she continued speaking, all I could see was Paul in that second before he kissed me. The ways his eyes were a lit with expectation…

I shook my head, casting another glance at the wall clock. I swear I could hear the seconds drawling to a close, each one taunting me acrimoniously. One by one they went on. I still had five more minutes of class before I had to meet up with Paul.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the flood of memories that sprang to life as I remembered the last time I had been with Paul for other reasons than school. Every sight, every sound… every emotion was still with me, slowly unearthing themselves as I allowed myself to be consumed by the enjoyable–yet equally hurtful–memories.

When I opened my eyes again, I found Adam hovering above me gazing down at me sadly. I blinked, realizing a tear had escaped the crevice of my eye and strolled sadly along my cheek. Furiously I wiped it away before anyone else noticed. In my trip down memory lane, I'd gotten so consumed by my thoughts that those last five minutes had breezed by in a flash.

Kindly, Adam gathered my belongings in his own arms and led me outside wrapping his arm around my shoulder comfortingly. I leant my head against his shoulder. He continually shocks me; one second he can be joking, the next dead serious His mood fluctuates appropriately as needed. I appreciate the fact that he didn't ask what was bothering me but accompanied me in silence instead. Cee, as much as I may love her, would've already asked about a thousand questions I didn't want to answer quite yet.

Smiling wanly, I gave him my thanks. As he walked away, he turned around, "Call me later–that is, if you want to talk. I may not be a girl, but I can still listen, Suze." I nodded and he waved good-bye trailing away along the sea of students and teachers.

Absently, I went to Paul's locker. I waited for probably a minute before I saw him coming up at last. He smiled at me, and I forced myself to smile back. Paul tossed his belongings into the locker and took out the materials he needed for home before finally speaking to me. "So, you're taking me up on my offer then?"

"I'm here aren't I?" I leaned up against the locker beside his. "I just want to make myself clear. I don't want you trying anything. Nothing like earlier."

Paul smiled at me, before closing his locker. "Sure thing, Suze." I wanted to believe him; his tone was sincere and honest. However, I didn't want to be fooled by the act he had already mastered. 'Sure thing, Suze,' could mean just about anything to Paul, despite what his intonation might indicate.

Paul started walking away without any notice and I went after him, struggling to keep in line with him. I didn't bother to unload myself of my own schoolwork; right now shifting was more important. Every inch of me desired to know what shifting was all about. Paul stopped at his car, looked at me and then opened it. "You riding with me? Or you want to take your car now? I really don't care. I'll bring you back later to pick it up."

I scanned the parking lot for my jeep; it was located on the opposite corner of the lot. I parked back there so I could distance myself as much from Paul. Feeling too lazy to trek to my own car, I nodded, and started heading for the passenger seat, not really caring where we ended up going.

–8–

"So… shifting?" Great, I couldn't even form a coherent sentence anymore. A small wooden table and two cups separated me from Paul.

"What do you want to know?" He held up some papers he had retrieved from his backpack. "In my hands, I have my entire written knowledge of shifting. This information is rare, and it is valuable. Only few have access to it, much less the abilities to use the extent of the information. But you and me, we're very special. I have all the known knowledge about shifting and the ability to use it, you will too." He smiled at me. "Suze, you and I are rare. I don't know how you figured out you were a shifter but I knew in due time you would. That's why I was always attracted to you from the beginning; I knew you and I could relate on some level."

"So just tell me already." Impatience stirred inside me.

"Suze, I like to earn what I get–or in this case, receive some sort of recompense for what I'm about to tell you." I looked up at Paul dubiously. If I had thought he wouldn't want anything, then I was sadly mistaken. There was a catch; there always was one.

"Paul, can't you just tell me? I already came with you to the coffee house because you wouldn't explain earlier. Isn't that enough?"

Paul leaned back in his chair comfortably, placing his hands behind his head. "Suze, I'm an easy guy to please. There's not much I want. But, there is one thing I can think of right now. It's up to you how much you really want to know about shifting."

Skeptically, not liking where the conversation was going, I asked what he wanted from me. Paul didn't answer right away, instead smiling at me like he knew the secrets of the world. This time however, he did know the secrets I desired to know.

"Well," Paul drawled, "I want you to go out with me again. I want to be your boyfriend and be given another chance. Since you'll never fess up to the fact you still have feelings for me, I'm just going to prompt you a bit. We'll go out for a week, and in return I'll answer all your questions about shifting," looking thoughtful for a second, Paul added, "At the end of the week."

I gaped. Who did he think I was? I'm not that desperate for information of any kind.

The question hung in the air. Would I agree to be Paul's girlfriend again for the sake of knowledge, or would I turn him down?

The immediate answer anyone in their right mind would give was a plain and simple 'no.' But I actually contemplated the proposal. Mentally, I ran a list of pros and cons. Paul's hopeful gaze burned into me, awaiting my response. A battle was raging inside of me. I couldn't even make up my mind, much less speak.

_He loves you…_

_He broke your heart…_

_He made you do things you didn't want to…_

_You loved the feeling of being with him…_

The voices argued over and over in my head. Not one was strong enough for me to listen to and convince me that by going out with Paul–as _blackmail_–would be a horrible mistake.

But then again, things could actually work out this time. Since we broke up, I haven't stopped wandering what could have been had we not broken up so soon.

I know it's silly to be hung over a relationship that lasted a whole of two weeks. But I know it's the best thing I'll ever have; Paul knows it too–because he felt the same feelings too.

All the tension that has amounted since then is aching to be released. It won't be much longer before either one of us breaks. I can't handle it anymore. Every time I catch a glimpse of Paul, my heart swells with pain. But it also beats with joy. He was my first love, after all.

I couldn't date Paul. By dating him again under such circumstances, I'd be giving up a part of myself–my dignity and I'd be letting him win. I wasn't going to become some cheap girl solely to please his needs. I'm much better than that. The decision would have to be mine to make with no strings attached.

Now, though, I don't think it'll ever happen. Dating Paul again, I mean. He doesn't deserve me. I should've realized that the first time he broke up with me. I can't believe that he would have the nerve to ask such a thing from me or that I have been so hung on my feelings for him for so long.

Uncomfortable silence settled between me and him, making the small coffee shop seem too small. Clarity and focus had been lost, and I felt vacant inside. I felt cold and empty.

Sensing my discomfort, Paul reached across the table and took my hand in his. "Suze. I'm sorry, listen…" I pulled at my hand, but he wouldn't budge.

"No! How can you make such an offer and still live with your self?" I futilely slapped his hand away from my wrist. He dropped it immediately.

"Suze…" He trailed off lucidly.

"If you think that I will even take you up on such an offer, then your sadly mistaken."

"I know I was wrong to ask that of you… but, God, Suze. I've gone though so much to be with you. After we broke up, I never stopped caring about you. I just want you to be with me. I want things to be like they used to."

"You screwed up, Paul. And maybe I did, too. But this is not the way to fix things." Sad blue eyes bore into my own, hazed and pleading.

"Look, I was an ass, I still am. Maybe we'll never get back what we had, but maybe we can try to be friends? I want things to get better between us."

"You want things to get better? Fine. Then meet me tonight at Big Sur. There's something I need to take care of with your help." Paul nodded. "But I still want to know about shifting."

"I can't tell you anything, Suze. Its scarce information. I don't have to share anything with you if I don't want to. Please–just one date?"

"Why, Paul?"

"Because."

I stared at him. That answer wasn't going to cut it. Quirking one eyebrow, I prompted him. He sighed in return. "Because, like I said: I want things to get better between us."

"And by going out with you will help?" Somehow, I doubted that.

"Yes. If you can realize I'm not such a pain, then maybe you'll want to make it more of a long-term thing."

"While I'm not entirely sure this is a good idea, fine. Whatever. If it's what I need to get information about shifting. But, how does it relate with mediation?"

A second or two passed as he gathered his answer. I didn't even know if both dealt with ghosts. But I needed to know. My whole life I'd been told I was a mediator… maybe my beliefs were set up around a lie?

"Shifters are much more powerful, Suze. More than you could possibly imagine." A sly smile spread across his lips as his eyes twinkled in delight.

"Powerful enough to travel through time?"

An expression matching that of shock flashed across his face for one brief second but was soon replaced by his usual calm demeanor. "I don't know. I guess you'll just have to wait for those shifting lessons, won't you?"

Groaning, I started to turn away. "Whatever. Just be at Big Sur at midnight, will you?"

"Yeah… but why?"

"There's something I need to take care of with your help."

"Shifting wise?"

"It'd help if I knew what it was…"

"Forget it Simon, I'll tell you after you've fulfilled your part of the deal."

"Fine. Midnight, okay. I'll have my cell with me if you can't find me."

I had a date with Paul Slater. The agreement was I'd get my shifting information but did I really want to put myself through such turmoil just to receive the information I so desperately desired?

Even more, anything could happen. I might find myself in the same predicament of wanting to date Paul again… would my heart be ready to handle the pain all over again?

"So, that's it then? You're going to flat out agree?" Paul quirked an eyebrow skeptically at me, his expression seeming wondrous and uncertain as he analyzed the situation.

Shrugging, I answered weakly, "Well, I really want to know."

Accepting the response, Paul nodded. "Right, let's get going then. I've got some stuff to do and I'm sure you're wanted at home. I'll just drop you off at school, and we'll work out the details about our… _date_, if you want to call it that, tomorrow."

Standing up, I followed his lead. Silence stretched between us as he took me back to school. No words were exchanged but my mind was screaming at me for being so stupid. I've probably fallen into a trap by agreeing to go on a date with him.

When we got back to campus, I knew I had something to do; and that was to visit the good father.

– 8 –

"Susannah, please do slow down. I only understood about a quarter of what you told me." Father Dom smiled gently at me, his cheeks rosy.

"There's this ghost."

"Yes, I understood that, Susannah. It's as much as I managed to comprehend."

I sighed. If my thoughts weren't so everywhere, I could explain to Father D about Jesse. "Well, the ghost–he's claiming he knows me. And I believe him too, unless he simply fabricated the story he told me. The thing is, he knows me from some sort of alternate reality…"

His white brows knitted into confusion. "How is such a thing possible, Susannah?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. I think there's another mediator around here who's going to help me," by making me date him first as collateral, I added to myself quietly.

"Another mediator? In Carmel? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"A shifter, actually–I think. And I just found out last night."

"Right." He fiddled with a pencil on his desk before returning his attention to me. "Well, Susannah, I must say I am at a lost for words. I do not know of any solutions that may help you with this ghost. It is quite a different situation. Perhaps you'd like to send him to me? Maybe by talking with him I can figure out something."

"No, I don't think so. I want to handle him on my own. I feel like I should, if what he's saying is true, anyway."

Father Dom nodded, before replying, "I am sure you are tired of hearing this already, Susannah, but you are to under no circumstances exert yourself physically. Do we have an understanding?"

"Would I ever?" I asked innocently, concealing the hint of annoyance building up inside of me. Reproachful eyes looked up at me and my smile faltered. "Kidding, Father D. I've got to go though. Alright, thanks."

"Anytime, Susannah. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help to you."

I exited the Mission and headed home at last. School had let out nearly three hours ago and I had yet to go home. I made it a point to drive by Big Sur hoping to catch a glance of Jesse. Much like I expected, he wasn't anywhere to be seen.

It must be hard, being stuck in the realm of the living while you can no longer enjoy such a luxury yourself. It must be hard for Jesse to just sit back and watching the world go on without him. I certainly don't know how I would handle it myself.

When I got home, I evaded the questions of my mother simply by telling her of a student council crisis. I shuffled up the wooden stairs…

… And when I opened my door, sitting atop my window seat was Jesse. Reading a book.

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(A/N): There's chapter five. Please review; all comments are deeply appreciated and taken into consideration.

I'll try to update within a week or two, but like I said, I've become swamped with school at the moment, so there's no guarantees. I'll see what happens...


	6. Chapter 6

(A/N): I'll shamelessly admit, this update is long overdue. It's been saved in my computer for all of, I'm thinking, two weeks? Yeah, it was complete the day after I posted the last chapter. _But_, here's my long explanation as to why I am now posting it. If you don't care, just go ahead and read the chapter; if you do, it because: I got _so_ incredibly busy these last two weeks it's not even funny. Then, I wasn't sure if I liked the ending. This chapter kind of, sort of, really changed my plot and general outcome of the story. On the bright side, there is now the possibility of a sequel. YAY!

However, as I was saying, I wasn't too sure about it. And I always like having at least _one_ chapter done before posting the next, and that chapter was just so hard to write. I had too many ideas flitting around and couldn't decide on anything. That chapter is now complete, so fret not; hopefully it won't be up in too long.

I have determined I will finish this story even if it kills me. Now, I can end my long Author's Note. Enjoy.

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**Suze's POV**

My eyes landed on the sight before me. Sitting there, quietly and content was Jesse, lost in the book in front of him. Something about studying him sitting there vaguely comforted me; as if it wasn't out of the ordinary that a ghost would be sitting on my window seat. The whole sight was very comforting, as if I had consciously expected to see Jesse before my eyes, as if not a thing about it was awkward at all.

Serenity radiated from him; a deep pensive expression shadowed his features. He didn't even know I was standing in my room watching him.

Shutting the door silently behind me, I took uncertain steps forward. Could it be that he was just a figment of my imagination, or was he really there?

"Jesse?" my voice wavered, uncertain.

His head popped up, his eyes leaving the pages before him and looking into mine instead. A short tendril of his hair, a part of his bangs, fell sloppily in front of his eye. "Susannah," he spoke softly, brushing his hair back. "I did not realize you were home already. I-I shouldn't be here. It is not proper for a man to be in the same room as a…"

"Jesse. It's alright. I'm just a bit shocked. I wasn't expecting you would be here." My gaze averted from Jesse's face to the small pile of books that had been hidden behind his body. They were all short novels, presumably from Andy's library. "Did you read all those," I asked him in wonder.

"About half of them." He answered sheepishly. "I have always enjoyed reading. When I found all those novels in the library, I couldn't resist. You don't mind, do you?"

"Um, I guess not." My school bag was weighing heavily upon my shoulders. Closing the remaining gap between me and my bed, I dropped my belongings onto the bed. The load of textbooks and notebooks was released, and my shoulders felt much more comfortable. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Jesse turned around from me, and headed back towards the window seat. He didn't sit down, but instead looked out beyond the window. I assumed he was looking at the ocean. "I wanted to return here. One-hundred fifty years ago I would have died if it weren't for you. Just right over there," raising his hand, Jesse pointed at nothing in particular. "It's not there anymore–the barn we jumped out from–but I know exactly where it is. I still see it standing there, haunting me almost."

"If… if everything you've told me is true," approaching him and the window seat I tried to see where he had pointed to earlier, "How come I don't remember any of it? I want to believe you, Jesse, but I don't know if I should."

"Susannah. You must. Believe me, I mean. I would never lie. No to you; not to anyone. Especially something that seems so preposterous. I know it is hard to believe, and to understand. But you must."

"I'm trying."

"That will have to do for now." Jesse smiled warmly at me. His eyes however were not focused on me, rather on where he had pointed to earlier.

"Jesse? Can you tell me about your life? After what happened that night in the barn, I mean."

For a split second, he averted his gaze at me, before looking back. "I must go now, Susannah. I have kept you long enough. I will meet with you later, like we agreed."

His body faded slowly as one by one the atoms that composed his body evaporated into nothing–meaningless space that shouldn't even be occupied. I tried to hold him back, but no words were released from the confines of my mouth. My voice froze over. Perhaps I had asked something too personal of him. When my thoughts had successfully gathered, he was already gone. The only evidence he was ever here were the books piled on my window seat.

Sifting through each of the novel titles, I tried to paint a picture in my mind of what Jesse was like. So far I only knew what he'd told me about himself, which was not much. There were only five or six novels, but they were definitely not light reading material. I tried reading each novel, but I could not get beyond the first paragraph.

With no use whatsoever to each of them, I returned them back to their rightful place in Andy's study. When I got the study, I found Doc, also searching for a book.

"Hey, David," I greeted, placing the books on a gap in the shelves. "What are you up to?"

"I had a project assigned to me today. I was hoping dad had a book on what I need, but he doesn't."

"A project on what?" I asked, although truthfully I didn't quite care. A plan was formulating, and I knew Doc would be able to help me.

"Actually, I'm not quite sure myself yet."

Raising an eyebrow in wonder, I took in his appearance. Freckles, bright red hair, and his too large ears. "Well, if you don't mind, could you help me with a… project of my own?"

The kid instantly brightened, as if I'd offered him ice cream instead. "Yeah, what do you need, Suze?"

"Well… Mr. Walden assigned an essay about–" halting for a moment, I tried thinking about what time Jesse was from; realizing he'd never actually said when he died, I hoped he was from the 1800's, "–19th century California. And although he doesn't normally accept students doing their papers on Carmel, he's letting me because I come from New York and all. I found some stuff, but not much. There is this one family, though that caught my attention, the De Silva's. Think you could find some stuff about them, and their son, Hector de Silva?"

Nodding vigorously, the little guy assured me he could. "When do you need it by?"

"A couple of days; two or three, maybe four, I don't know."

"I'll get on it as soon as possible. Oh, and you might want to check the historical society as well. They have all you need to know about the past in Carmel."

Doc bounded excitedly out of the room, and I watched after him. No kid should ever get excited about helping his step-sister with a research project. Although lying to the little guy isn't the best of things, it's the only way I'll get the information I need.

–8–

The bedroom window opened with a shuddering squeal, piercing into the silence of the night. My heart raced and I almost dropped the window. Attentively I listened for any sound life. Surely my mom would've heard that scream. Anyone would have heard that. Seconds passed, and not a single sound emanated from the otherwise silent house. The wind howled lightly, blowing back my hair. Stepping through the window I was consumed by a vast dark sky illuminated by scintillating stars

With a stomach clenched in trepidation, a wildly racing heart, and shallow breathing, I proceeded to my car. I had no idea as to what to expect from this midnight rendezvous. I know Jesse needed to meet with Paul, if it meant he could move on. But a part of me wanted to keep him to myself and not have Paul meet Jesse at all–or vice versa. As if by having Paul meet Jesse, I would finally expose myself completely to the one person who has caused me the greatest pain of my life. Mediating is the one component of my life I have guarded with all my being.

By exposing my secret, I'll be giving myself to Paul. I'm setting myself up for potential disappointment, resentment, pain.

Considering the possibility that Paul didn't take me seriously earlier; that he spouted off the first idiotic idea that came to mind… who knows how much of it will be real. Deluded by his egotism and superiority maybe he believes that I am finally giving him another chance. As if it weren't enough that he'd blackmailed me into a date with him… maybe he believes that I am finally giving him another chance for there to be an 'us' again–after tonight. As if it weren't enough that he'd blackmailed me into a date with him. A date that could be set up on pretenses because there is no such thing as shifting.

I wouldn't put it past Paul to fabricate what I have requested of him–information.

The bitter night air stung, blowing slightly but still enough to pierce my skin and chill me to the bone. Wrapping my arms around me and holding my jacket tighter to me, I ignored my thoughts, my feelings, everything pent up deep within in the abyss of my soul, being. Losing myself in the brisk drive I arrived a lot sooner than anticipated. A familiar sleek BMW was pulled up along the shoulder of the road. Immediately, my earlier insecurities came swarming me. This was it. Someone was finally going to know my secret. Someone I'd considered telling many times before but never had the nerve to actually tell. Now, the game had changed. And although, I'd already told him, this would confirm everything.

–8–

**Paul's POV**

The night was windy. It was cold. It was dark–darker than what it should have been. The wind kept lapping against my face, biting into my face, seeping through the thin fabric of my track jacket.

Suze had said to meet at midnight. I'd been here since eleven. Anticipation had eaten me up inside. The glass walls had become to restricting and confining. I couldn't handle the eerie quietness. The usual hum of pops' IV droned on louder than usual, Mark's light snoring interrupting the serenity of the ocean waves crashing yards from the house.

Today replied over and over in my head. Broken fragments of a broken video replaying mockingly countless times, making me face the truth. Her words resonated clear as the Californian sun, reminding me of everything that would never be. She didn't have to say it; I could see it in her eyes. I don't even know why I bother anymore. Like she said, I screwed up. I was scared and I screwed up. Lost the one person that ever meant anything to me.

The crunching of gravel interrupted my thoughts. Light and unsure, they bounded closer. The rhythm of her steps told me everything I needed to know: she was unsure, hesitative. Possibly even scared. Scared of what, I don't know, but Suze always proceeds with determination and confidence.

I hadn't even taken a look at her and already my heart was racing. I wanted to hate her for what she does to me, how my senses get jammed whenever she is within proximity, how I can never form a single thought. But I could never hate her. For reasons I've never understood, the minute I laid eyes on her I was drawn in like a magnet. This compulsory drive to know her led me to her, as if it were fate. Maybe it was; of all the hotel staff babysitters, she just had to be the one in charge of Jack.

"Suze," I said slowly, welcoming her, trying so hard not to choke over my words.

"Of course, it's what we agreed to isn't it?"

"Actually, you never assured me of anything. I couldn't be too sure you would actually show up."

"I wouldn't stand you up," I answered truthfully. I took a step forward in her direction; she took one back. "So, why exactly am I here?"

Shrugging casually, she edged towards the railing along the cliff, separating her from imminent death. "Paul, do you believe in ghosts?" Mystified, my eyes landed on hers. She averted my gaze. Hadn't we already made this clear today? You'd think after all that, she would have gotten it by now; apparently she hadn't.

"It's not a matter of believing, for me." Indifferently, she stood with her back facing me, a barrier to further separate me from her, gazing out at the ocean before us.

"So what is it then, Paul?" She said tonelessly. Her detachment from the situation stung. She was so close to me physically, but right now, she was a million miles away.

"What do you want me to say? That I believe? It's so much more than that, Suze. I know they exist. They're as real as you and me. So no, I don't believe… simply because I've seen them my entire life. I've never been merited the luxury of believing; to believe would have to mean I knowingly accept ghosts are real without knowing if they truly exist." Finally she turned to face me. Through the darkness I could still make out her green eyes. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"I just needed to know." Biting her lip, Suze strode forward, still not catching my eyes. The look of uncertainty framed her face as she looked off to the side, mumbling something under her breath.

I wanted to ask her what she'd said, but the light twinkle of a ghost materializing rang out. Although it isn't particularly loud, I knew exactly what was happening. Sure enough, a light glow radiated between me and Suze as a ghost came in between us. His back was to me, but something about him seemed so very familiar.

"Susannah," he said his voice heavy with a Spanish accent. "Did he come?" Suze nodded in my direction, and the ghost turned to face me.

My eyes locked with his. Seeing into those eyes, I knew who exactly I was facing. Every memory came flooding back in, every detail, and every moment.

Because staring back at me was no other than Jesse de Silva.

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(A/N): I didn't originally intend to include a perspective other than Suze's in the story. However, when I got to that point, it seemed like a good place to switch things up. I'm hoping I did a good job on Paul's POV and caught his character jus fine–and hopefully there is a clear distinction in the characterization between his POV to Suze's. I don't know if I'll do another Paul POV. Maybe, maybe not. And since I've gave a Paul his own POV, maybe I'll do one for Jesse as well somewhere along the line to make it fair.

You know that pretty purple button at the bottom? Press it. If you do, you'll win $1,000,000 (Don't we all wish we could win that?) On a serious note, please review with your kind wordsd of wisdom.


	7. Chapter 7

(A/N): I took a different approach with this chapter. I don't think it's confusing, but if it is, just let me know.

This was meant to be really short, but then I got caught up with this chapter and made it a lot longer than I intended to. Seriously, it was meant to be like, three paragraphs long.

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One hundred and fifty years of history changed in the course of one night; on one incidental night in which two youths traveled through the realms of time to go back and change one event that would steadfastly alter their destinies, their fate, their lives. 

Their mission?

To venture into the past and save the life of one particular ghost. Both had their reasons for doing it, but the ultimate result was one and the same: they succeeded, and the ghost lived out a long happy life, changing the future as it was once known.

When the both of them returned to their timeline, they resumed life, unaware of the changes that occurred. But deep inside, they both held the knowledge of what had once been, and where exactly their lives had changed.

Everything altered in that instant when the natural order of things was disrupted. What should have been never was. By granting that ghost a chance at life, the equilibrium shifted. Life had to continue–but in different ways.

And a new universe formed to better suit the needs of a new timeline.

The illusionary world created mirrored the one they knew. Events reflected one another; the outcome almost always the same. But the differences are evident. If they would simply open their eyes to the truth, they could see that the world they live in is not where they are meant to be.

Regardless, the two youths still stumbled across one another in this new world; their meeting was destined to happen, regardless of the time.

It was also destined that they both had to, at some point meet the ghost of the one hundred twenty year old soul.

The responsibility of a mediator comes with grave expectations. Individuals wielding the power are required to make a great sacrifice.

And without knowing it, they both sacrificed themselves in order to go assist the ghost. They traveled through time and warned him of his nearing death.

They succeeded in warning him. However, they didn't succeed in saving the soul they knew in the future. When they returned, everything changed. His body had not been pulled through time.

Both events were charted in time; they had to happen at one point or another.

The result, however, was different.

The young girl needed to carry his body through time with her, so the ghost could occupy his body and be given life one hundred and fifty years later. Instead, she lost a hold of him. If she'd held on just that much tighter, everything would be as it is meant to be.

She would have moved to California, and would have been greeted by the ghost in her bedroom. She would have fallen in love with him, and he with her.

Well, the girl still ended up moving to California, moving into the house that should have been haunted by the ghost. She occupied the same room, but he wasn't there to welcome her. The minute she had set foot in that room, she had been expecting something, someone, but it never came. Her biggest concern was that such a huge room would be too vast for her to be the sole occupant of; she needed the extra company that wasn't there to welcome her. As for the window seat her stepfather lovingly built, she stayed far away from it, afraid that, silly as it may sound, even to her, that it was haunted. The window seat remained desolate and alone. She could never bring herself to sit there.

Every day, her eyes drift to the window seat, hoping for a glimpse of something that isn't there. She doesn't understand what her strange fixation with the window seat is about, but she stays away from it at all costs.

She had not lived long in beautiful California when she met him, the boy who would soon become much more than just a boy in her life. A magnetic attraction blossomed between the two of them. They were bound by a powerful force. Although they didn't know it, they already knew each other. But their memories had been distorted and events differed, and they had no recollection of ever having met.

They met in the same place, under the same circumstances. Forced to get a summer job, she babysat the boy's younger brother. When his eyes lay on her, he couldn't get enough of her and trailed along behind her and his brother, just to be in her company. Flattered, but annoyed, the girl didn't mind too much. She couldn't understand however, if he spent all that time with her and his brother, why his parents even bothered hiring a hotel babysitter. They could have just had the boy take care of her charge.

In the short week they spent together, watching his younger brother, a friendship of sorts developed. When he returned to his home in Seattle, they stayed in touch through emails, and even weekly telephone calls. Then, the best of things happened; his family was bound to move to Carmel. Now they could both be together.

Without the obstacle the ghost had originally caused the first time they met, their relationship deepened.

It lasted a whole of two weeks. They were inseparable in that time.

New memories were made and shared. And their hearts were bound.

But, the girl felt like something was missing, that he wasn't the one for her. She was convinced she loved him, but her feelings were mysteriously clouded over. He was the first boy she had ever let close to her; or rather, the first to have ever asked her out because he genuinely liked her. He, on the other hand, had never felt this way about anyone before.

Before he'd known what had happened, he had fallen in love.

He got scared.

It hit them so suddenly they did not know what to do.

But at the same time both were thrilled by the prospect they had found love. Long ago, they had been told that they would have one true love. One love that would last forever. Could it be that they met so soon? Or were there hearts just playing tricks on them? They'd never been strong believers in fate, or true love.

None of it made sense.

_Love…_

_Passion…_

_Infatuation…_

_Lust…_

What did any of that mean? The four words have a common meaning, and are usually associated with one another. How could they ever truly distinguish the true emotion that caused them such tumult?

They would never admit it to each other. What they felt, that is. But they knew. They felt it when they were together; the pure ecstasy of being in each other's arms, kissing, enjoying each other's presence.

So where did it all go wrong?

At first, they blamed the other for what happened. Eventually, the denial wore away and they accepted that the relationship had ended. The feelings are still there, so they can't understand why they are simply not together.

The heartache, I suppose is too much for both of them to handle. Not even two invincible shifters should be put through the turmoil that is heartbreak.

Now they try to avoid each other at all costs. If they can convince themselves the other doesn't exist, then it is easier to pretend nothing ever happened. That their lives can continue without needing each other.

–8–

As for the ghost, he lived a long prosperous life. The life he got was well deserved. But, now that he is back as a restless spirit roaming the realm of the spirits, he has to correct what has been wronged. Restore the order to the universe.

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(A/N): I'm a bit iffy about this chapter, because it took me so long to write it in a way that satisfied me. I just couldn't get it, and this was the first draft of it that came out good.

I've been feeling a bit lazy, but hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. I've started it, but I'm probably going to redraft it a million times before posting it.

Read and review, please.


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